


Reality Shift

by Chelle1117



Category: No Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelle1117/pseuds/Chelle1117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney's only half out of his suit, and he's drenched with sweat and his arm's covered with blood and he winces when John grabs his elbow, but he doesn't complain. John whispers again, "Goddamn, Rodney."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality Shift

It's a moment between this world and the next, nanoseconds before the bright white light engulfs them all and shifts them just that one tiny degree to the left and the opportunity is lost.

John sees it, before the shot hits Rodney, before the reality drive kicks in and they're back in their own reality waiting for the drive to kick in again. There's panic, fear, not enough time, but then there is.

Rodney's idea, EVA suits, big bulky and life saving, and John's caught in the moment, hugging Rodney tight against him.

"You did good, Rodney," he whispers and shoves Rodney's helmet over his head.

Then the light again, and the Daedalus is gone, shifting into another reality five before its last, and John is left with his team, floating, suspended in the vacuum of space and he only knows two things: Rodney felt _good_ in his arms, and this one was too. Damn. Close. Between reality drives, aliens, and Rodney getting shot, now floating in the expanse of space.

Then Lorne's coming through over the radio, and they're being picked up, and shucking the EVA suits, and John just doesn't care anymore.

He leaves his suit in a clunky, twisted pile in the floor of the jumper, shoves his way past Ronon and Teyla who watch him with wide eyes and silent mouths, and he grabs Rodney by his elbows, lifts him up and pulls him close.

"Goddamn, Rodney."

"Colonel?"

Rodney's only half out of his suit, and he's drenched with sweat and his arm's covered with blood and he winces when John grabs his elbow, but he doesn't complain. John whispers again, "Goddamn, Rodney," and then he tastes Rodney's sweat, the beads of salty moisture above Rodney's lips, the tang of coffee and fear and pain, the soft waft of breath as Rodney sighs into the kiss.

The bulkhead doors close, but they don't care. Rodney opens his mouth wide, and pulls John's tongue into his mouth, and that's okay, because it's where John wanted to be anyway. Rodney's hands are on his ribs, coursing over his back to grip at his shirt. But it's not enough. John pulls him tighter and wraps his arms around Rodney's back, around his neck, and Rodney pushes into the kiss.

They fall onto the bench together, wrapped up and locked at every point of contact. Then John needs a breath, so he breaks from the kiss, and closes his teeth on Rodney's chin, runs his hands through Rodney's very wet hair.

Rodney is breathless, aborted words falling from his lips. John thinks they might be related to him, "Colonel...Sheppard," then finally, long and drawn out on a sigh as his hands cover John's face, "John."


End file.
